The Fourth of July
by Doktor Al Meringue
Summary: So, Tony missed his birthday - so what? He shouldn't have expected anything from anybody, anyway. Somewhat inspired by the movie Magic Mike. Rated T for suggestive themes.


Four days.

Four days since his birthday. It didn't bother him that he'd actually had a birthday, no; people acknowledged it, from the Avengers tower to the people on the street, even a fantastic "Happy Birthday, Captain America!" from the largest political figures on the news today.

Natasha (and Hawkeye, apparently) had gotten him a relic from his time: a vintage Steel Bomber plane, still fresh in its box, a toy that had been dear to him as a child. He thanked her generously (she didn't want a hug in return).

Banner gave him something called a "gift card" to a local Diner that had food Steve adored, and the hero thanked him as well with a handshake.

Thor brought him delicacies from Asgard, from food and drink to a strange animal resembling a spider. Supposedly, it made clothing; but Thor wasn't offended in the least when Steve hastily refused it, and instead laughed. "Good!" He'd chuckled, "those things are rumored to have a nasty bite if you don't pay them mind, anyway."

Fury gave him nothing - though that was expected - but he was there to at least wish him the best and cut the cake.

There was cake and a small party, with bumping music that had no words to it to go along. They took him out for shopping, games, and a fancy dinner with heaps of silverware that Steve didn't know how to use properly. At the end of the day, spectacular fireworks above Times Square. One of them burst into his shield, decoration and all. Cheers and slaps on the back all abound.

But...

There was one thing that bothered him, once he noticed it. Despite everything - the parties, the friends, the general fun - there was still something missing.

Stark hadn't been there.

Of course, the last they'd heard of him was just before the fourth. He was out somewhere in Wisconsin working on contracting his new energy source. Good for him and all, but as selfish as this sounded, Steve would have liked _all _of his friends there with him. Not necessarily for the birthday part, but just to enjoy the company of his buddies.

And maybe presents. Not that he'd expected any though.

Four days passed, and nothing was to be heard from him.

Steve eagerly tried to convince himself that Stark wasn't going to be back to wish him a happy belated birthday. As Steve got up for the fourth morning in a row and began brushing his teeth, so began the mantra. _He's not coming back with a present. He's not coming back for me. We're all going to greet him and tell him congrats on his successful business meeting._ So far, it'd been working.

He hopped in the shower and the words played in his head like music. He even began tapping a beat out to it. "Ain't gonna - dah! dah! - expect _anything_!" It was a little embarrassing, admittedly, to sing into the soap bar in the shower, but it _was _the only place in the Avengers base where there weren't cameras.

Steve jumped out feeling refreshed and convinced, wrapping a towel around his waist with a smile. Stark _wasn't _coming home for him, he _was _coming back with lots of good news and snark Stark comments.

A knock at his front door snapped him out of his thoughts. The Captain peeked his head out of the bathroom, giving a puzzled look at the wood. That never happened. "Just a minute!" He threw undies and a pair of slacks on, then jogged over to the door. He peeked out.

"Hel-? _Ma'am_!"

The woman before him was a spitting image of Marilyn Monroe... sans most of her clothing. A sash over her shoulder read, "Happy America, Rogers!" and a tiara upon her head gleamed with real diamonds. Steve threw open the door and wheeled around, grabbing the blanket from his bed. He thrust it out towards the woman, covering his eyes. "Ma'am - Miss Monroe - please, I ask that you put some clothes on..."

"But that would ruin my gift, Steve, and not accepting someone's gift is very rude."

Steve peeked through his fingers at the voice. Tony Stark was leaning to the side of the woman with a wily grin. His suit was sloppily undone, tie lying limply across his shoulders and his shirt untucked. "C'mon, Steve! Do you know how difficult it was to find a Monroe impersonator that _wasn't _a prostitute?"

Somewhere Steve should have been expecting this.

"I'm a dancer," Miss Monroe quipped with a dazzling smile.

"See? A _dancer_, Steve. That's big bucks. She's even got her own routine. Do it, honey."

"No, no, _please_, that's not necessary..."

The impersonator began coming closer and closer to Steve. "Happy birthday, to you..." She sang, light and airy, just as the real Monroe had done for the President's birthday so long ago. A foreign song to Steve, but one well-known (and adored!) by Stark. "Happy Birthday, to yo-ou..." With each step she took forward, he took one back.

"Stark, get her off of me!" Steve tripped over the sheet-less bed and landed on it. Miss Monroe only came closer and closer.

"Happy Birth-day, dear Captain..."

"_Stark!_" She'd crawled on top of him, straddling his hips. He grabbed her arms and held them high to keep her red-painted lips far away from _any_ of his cheeks. "_Please!_"

Stark rolled his eyes. "Alright baby, down. Get off of Steve." The woman whipped her head around to look at the billionaire. She obediently climbed off of Steve and Stark whispered something in her ear. As she turned to leave Stark slapped her on the rear, which earned him a giggle and a fast trot out of there. He turned to look at the captain. He was glaring daggers at him. Stark threw his arms akimbo.

"What?"

"You know darn well, what! That was completely uncalled for!" Steve's face was beet red and his arms were folded over his chest. "Now, I appreciate a woman just as much as the next man-"

"Then why didn't you accept my gift?"

"-but only after I've come to know them! You have to take them out on dates, and ask them what their interests are, and things like that! You have to know them as a person, not just as a... doll, or something."

"Oh, okay." The suited man leaned out the door. "Honey, come back! Steve wants to talk to you, and get to know you, and things like that!" Steve leapt off the bed and drug Stark back in by his collar before he could say anything else.

"Not _her_! Someone _else_!"

Stark frowned and eased himself out of Captain America's grip. "But I just wanted you to have a happy birthday, Capt. Can't you accept my present?"

"W-well, I mean, I didn't mean it like that..."

"Was it because she was a girl?"

"What! No, nothing like that-!"

"Do you like men? Did I miss something in your report? I'm usually a _very _thorough reader, but I do miss things sometimes."

Steve shook his head wildly, letting him go. "That's _certainly _not the case, Stark..."

"Should I be the one singing to you?" Tony unbuttoned his shirt to reveal the top half of the legendary white Monroe dress just under his clothing. He removed his pants and from the wrinkles in the garment, Steve could tell that he'd had the dress stuffed down there a while, as if this whole escapade was his true plan. He began singing in a falsetto. "Happy Birthday, to you..."

The captain darted past Stark and out of the room as quickly as his legs would take him. Behind him, he could hear the billionaire's laughter echoing loudly through the halls.

"Happy Birthday, Rogers!"

* * *

**If you haven't seen Magic Mike yet, I highly recommend it. Highly. **


End file.
